His Mother's Eyes Part 1
by Whirr
Summary: Lily Evans is in her seventh year at Hogwarts, but things are not going right. She is frequently woken in the night by a recurring nightmare and her schoolwork is suffering. She is worried about her N.E.W.T.s, her friendship with one of her best friends i


**A/N:** Well, I'm back, with a new story. I basically realised the others were rubbish, but this one will be good! This chapter isn't very long, but they will get longer. (:

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the world this is set in, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. I do own the character Elgin Blake and the plot.

**His Mother's Eyes (Part One)**

**Chapter One: Promises and Prophecies**

It was the middle of the night and a storm was raging. Rain fell in torrents, creating creeks where there were none. Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder rolled. A small house stood on a hill, illuminated occasionally by a bolt of lightning. A small black hooded figure hurried up the path. Thick vines covered the whole house, except for a battered wooden door at the front. The path was cracked, and in parts there was no path at all, just mud. A scrawny black cat scurried across the path, drenched and shivering. The figure gave a start and drew a wand.

"_Lumos_."

The light illuminated the person's face. It was a woman. She looked only about thirty, but her cheeks were sunken and there were bags under her large, hazel eyes. Her hair looked as though it had once been light brown, maybe even blonde, but it was now colourless. She was deathly thin and her graying robes seemed to hang off her little frame. She wore a silver locket around her neck, perhaps the only thing of value she owned. The woman reached the door, put out her wand's light and knocked three times.

It creaked open to reveal a dark hallway. She stepped inside.

"Good evening Cassandra," said a croaky voice from the shadows, making the woman jump. A man emerged. He was tall, with long gingery hair and pale skin, as though he rarely saw the sun. He wore gold framed spectacles and black robes with red piping. There was nothing very remarkable about his appearance, yet the woman called Cassandra sunk to her knees and bowed her head.

"Mr. Blake," she said. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Thank you so much for your hospitality. I will not stay long."

He lifted her chin with his hand. "You do not need to bow to me Cassandra. Come."

He lit his wand and set off down the hall quickly. Cassandra hurried after him, almost gasping for breath.

"You do not sound well," he said, stopping abruptly and opening a door.

"No," said Cassandra. Mr. Blake looked enquiringly at her, but she was looking at her feet and did not respond.

"Come in here," he said, gesturing into the room. "I will give you something for your sickness, then you can proceed."

"You don't want to waste your supplies on me," said Cassandra, her whisper now raspy, "Let it just be over with."

Mr. Blake looked at her for a moment and then said, "Very well. Come in and sit down then."

He led her into the room. It was dark like the hallway, but with a flick of his wand, Mr. Blake lit a candle that seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was standing on a small, dusty wooden table, with two chairs either side. There were no windows. Mr. Blake sat down on one of the chairs, and Cassandra sank on to the other.

"I am afraid, Elgin," she said, "That my days are numbered. I would like you to raise my daughter, Fedilia. She will not be around much, as she will be at Hogwarts. But just in the summer, I would like her to come here, to have a place to call home."

"Cassandra, this is hardly the place for a child to be raised-"

"It is better than what she will have come from," said Cassandra. Then, taking off her silver locket, she handed it to Mr. Blake. "Give this to her. It's a family tradition, passed down from mother to first daughter. Tell her that."

Her voice could now hardly be heard, and Mr. Blake had to lean in to hear her. He nodded.

"Do you promise?"

"Yes," he said, "But this is not what you told me you were coming for, Cassandra."

"No," she whispered, "I have come to make a prophecy… to you…"

"Are you up to it?" He asked, his voice now a whisper as well.

She nodded. He sat back in his chair, as though waiting. It was a few moments before anything happened. Suddenly, Cassandra's eyes were rolling and she spluttered. When she spoke, her voice was louder than before, but every word seemed to be a struggle.

"_The one to unlock… the secret of – of a family will be born… one hundred years from this day… born to those who do not love each other… with the features of the father and the eyes – the eyes of the mother… he alone will be able to decipher… decipher the past… of the only descendants… of - of… Godric Gryffindor… and - and break the… the curse… that – that binds them._"

The prophecy seemed to have taken every last piece of life from her. She slumped against her chair, panting and gasping for breath. Mr. Blake lifted his wand to his temple and drew it away slowly, bringing with it a long strand of something silver. He took a small bottle from his pocket and placed the substance into it, corked in a lid and then dropped to Cassandra's side.

"My… my daughter," Cassandra croaked. She tried to continue, but no voice came from her mouth. She grasped her throat and mouthed 'take care of her'. A tear trickled down her face and her head lolled over the back of her chair.

She was dead.


End file.
